Who in the world is Cindy Sherman?

I'll admit, I didn't know who Cindy Sherman was before last night.

I still don't know who she really is.

But after the documentary I watched last night, I do know this:

1. She's an artist.
2. She uses herself in her art by portraying different "characters" and then photographs hersef.
3. She's pretty amazing.
4. You can learn more here.

A big glass of pity for table four, please.

On my commute home from work yesterday, I threw myself a 20-minute pity party.

I've been DARN happy lately... but yesterday afternoon, I got all good n' annoyed. A couple of co-workers really rubbed me the wrong way (they don't read this, so I have no problem venting here). And as a result, I left work in a royally bad mood. Not the greatest way to end the day.

As I was on the train, soaking in my own pity until my fingers got all wrinkly, I thought to myself: "Self: why are you focusing on this? Why are wasting your valuable time thinking about how cruddy those people made you feel? You need your energy for those hills you're about to run tonight, so git yer darn priorities straight!!"

And so I did.

Want to know what happened? I had an amazing run, I enjoyed my evening, and I even found myself singing aloud as I puttered around the house, doing my thing.

Huh. Imagine that.

It's incredible how much control we have over our own happiness.

Hello

(How clever is the title of my blog today? You like it, oui?? Unfortunately, the cleverness of the title may have a direct correlation to the level of cleverness in this actual blog post. And for that reason, I must say: Je m'excuse.)

It's been a little while since the last update. Hence, my issuing of a formal apology: Dearest, dearest Internet... Please accept my humblest of apologies for my complete lack of ability to blog on a regular basis. I must repent. And I fully accept your choice to shout "For shame!! For shame!!" at me, should you feel it necessary.

But yesterday - oh yesterday. I was busy, yo.

Work was insane. I'm not quite over the time change yet. All I can think about are the million and one things I need to do before vacation next week. So I pretty much stumbled around in a haze yesterday. Not conducive to good blogging. At. All.

Anyway - onto bigger and better things. Like... tonight. I shall overcome yet another running challenge, injury free (hopefully), when I tackle hill running. Our running group jogs over to a hill, runs up it and walks down it all in the name of building strength and stamina.

Will it work? Will Hez actually build up strength and stamina? Will she remain injury-free? And - most importantly of all - will Hez wear stupid running clothes??

Tune in tomorrow to find out!!!! (Dun Dun Dunnnnnnnnnnnnnn.......)

Hez's Top 10

Top 10 Signs That You're Not Quite Ready for a Mexico Vacation:

10. In natural light, you must wear sunglasses before looking at any of your exposed skin.

9. You have yet to experience the dreaded "Spring Cleaning" Wax Ritual.

8. The rolls you're carrying around are not the dinner variety.

7. Upon seeing yourself in a bathing suit, you instantly curl into the fetal position while chanting "The horror. The horror."

6. The only Spanish you know is "Dos Cerveza Por Favor". (You still need to learn the Spanish words for Daiquiri, Margarita and Pina Colada.)

5. There isn't enough aloe vera supply to meet your demands.

4. Shaving your legs seems like an extremely arduous task.

3. You still have Winter Feet.

2. You can't find your summer clothes in your closet full of turtlenecks and heavy sweaters. Thanks very much, Canadian climate.

And the number one sign that you're not quite ready for a Mexico vacation.......

Your Canadian skin vs. the Mexican sun. Enough said.

Smug with a hint of smug

I have decided that I fit into several "smug" categories. Categories that, when put together, create something so horridly awful that all friends and family may soon disassociate themselves from me. I'm talking about... The Perfect Smug.

The categories are as follows:

• Smug runner. You know the type, yes? You may have seen them out and about in EVERY TYPE OF WEATHER IMAGINABLE. Nothing stops them. And they have all the gear - from the nerdy little water bottle belt to the tight-fitting stupid reflective clothing. That is me. I fit into that group. And what makes us smug? Well, simply because we run. And you? Do not.
• Smug married. Hubster and I have both hosted, and been to, dinner parties. We have matching Sigg water bottles. We travel to places like the Galapagos. We like to hold hands and talk at length about how wonderful it is to be married and how happy we are and how life is only worth living if we have each other. We don't notice other people gagging around us. We. Are. Smug marrieds.
• Smug Toronto worker. I ride the subway with my iPod in order to avoid any conversation with the dreaded stranger. I wear giant scarves in the winter, tied more for style than warmth. I sometimes dine at places in "trendy Yorkville" and I have a daily Starbucks. I give people directions like "Go left at Harry Rosen, right at Sassafraz". I work in advertising.

Oh god. Am I smug.

In these tough economic times...

...sometimes you just have to laugh. That's what I choose to do today. As do my fellow creative team coworkers.

We've decided that in each meeting we go to today, one of us must work the phrase "in these tough economic times" into the conversation somehow. Without informing others of why we're doing this. Or why we're all trying to stifle giggles once said phrase is uttered.

So far... Creative team: 3. Economy: 0.

Take that.

This is the moment

For some reason, hubster has been extra mushy lately. Snugly. Kind of emotional. Touchy. And huggy.

Not that he isn't often sweet and loving and wonderful... But most of the time, if the situation doesn't call for a hug, he doesn't really "do" snuggling. He likes his space. Especially when sleeping. (And while drifting off to sleep, if I try to cram my feet in between his legs and rest them there... HELL to pay! Hate! Loathing! Anger!)

I've joked with him, asking what he's on lately and why he's suddenly much more mush-tastic. But since he isn't a new member of the little-blue-pill-takers... there really isn't a reason. I guess I'm just lucky. Hubster's going through a snuggle-spurt.

Gag to the power of gag. (I will sit here and patiently wait for your desire to purge to subside.)

I guess it really just comes down to happiness. Hubby is happy lately. I'm happy.

When I told a friend of mine that I was 30 - and could she believe it??? - she answered "Yeah. Because 30 is fabulous. And you're fabulous! You've got your life together and that's what 30 should be." After I finished blushing and giggling, I started really thinking about how good things are for me.

Really. When I think about it - having a mushy husband, liking my job, being close to my family, having great friends and feeling like I'm a decent person - makes me pretty happy to be where I am and who I am.

That, and all the other little things, make life pretty wonderful.

I could focus on the economy and worry about money and try to avoid exposure to everything that might increase my risk of dying. Or, I could take pleasure in sipping tea on a cold morning. Treasure the fact that I can wear my pj bottoms until 5pm on the weekend. Relish the sense of accomplishment of an 11km run, after I'm done. Enjoy laughing until my sides hurt. Cherish the simple act of my husband's hand on my knee in the car.

It's all about perspective.

Find your moment. Enjoy it. Adore it. Sometimes all we've got to get us through the day is something as small as an unexpected hug.

Life can be pretty damn amazing.